THE WALL OF FACES

I remember Tony well from our crowd at St Martins and the school dances at St. Tim's and also like Tony attended Father Judge. As a fellow Vietnam vet 67/68 it was a very sad day when I had learned that we had lost Tony.

God bless you soul Tony and I believe that God has a special place for those who died for their fellow man.

I remember Tony from our walks to school in 7 & 8 th grades at St. Martin's and riding the bus to Father Judge in 1961. We were both assigned to Freshman group # 13 and Tony never seemed to be happy. Always looking for a fight after school. This May the class of Father Judge will celebrate 50 years since graduation. While on no official records I'm sure his name will be remembered just as it will by his Frankford classmates. Being a Vietnam Vet myself I look on this as a whole life lost for him and his family and friends.

Tony was like a big brother to me, He was engaged to my sister. I will never forget that awful night when the door bell rang, My sister was trying on the beautiful Japanese dress she had just received in the mail from Tony. He use to sing "Baby Love" and "Until the 12th of Never" , along with many other Motown favorites to Ida. You are in my thoughts and prayers every night.
P.S. I married a Viet Nam hero . Always in my heart, Grace Marconi Fugarino

May 26, 2014

A Remembrance of:
Anthony Peter Sawicki
Philadelphia, PA
Lance Corporal United States Marine Corps
KIA September 10, 1967

"My Prayer is to Linger."

Tony, your face and voice are in my mind today. i will never forget the song that you were always singing: "My Prayer"( is to Linger). You were the kid from Philly and you kept us entertained. I didn't see you give your life that day, but Marty (Roger Martin from Cleveland) told me later that day. He said you were up trying to get the squad together when we were ambushed that afternoon on hill 48 near Cam Lo in Quang Tri Province, RVN. I remember it way too well. The intense incoming AK-47 fire, the thump, thump, thump of the 50 cal machine gun, the mortar rounds that made my ears ring and the Whoosh whoosh sounds over my head that I didn't recognize, and the unforgettable snap that the sniper round made as it broke the sound barrier right above my head. The most frightening thing that I ever saw was the Flamethrower Tank getting knocked out. Then I knew the whoosh sounds had come from an RPG's. Seeing a Tank get hit no more than 25 yards away was the most devastating experience of my young life! I could have never anticipated what was to come next! I watched as a tanker in flames leaped from the burning tank. A second man in flames didn't jump, but fell back into raging inferno that the Flame Tank had become. These events shook me to the core. An intense emotion washed over me and I felt my demise was certain and eminent. The intense small arms fire, the blast from a LAW being fired, mortar rounds exploding, ChiCom grenades blasts that sent shrapnel zing overhead and that big, powerful tank in flames said in capital letters, "THIS IS IT!!!" I had fired one round from my M16 early in the attack. I could not recognize any M16 fire going out. I was totally blind in tall grass, no view of other Marines or NVA. I thought if I fired, then someone with a better vantage point might be inspired to pump out some return fire. I pushed off the safety, elevated the barrel to about 45 degrees and jerked the trigger. Then I heard that familiar and distinctive click. My M16 had jammed! At the the exact instant that the tank was hit my Prick 25 unsquelched into a loud, continuous shhhhhhh. The radio in the tank was keyed and essentially knocked out our company radio communications on the frequency we were using. I had a jammed riffle, a 20 pound radio not working and an seemingly invincible tank in flames. I could see no friend or foe. No one answer me. The sniper knew where I was. When I raised up a little to look and the tape antenna got a little above the grass, the snap, snap of snipper fire picked up. He was doing his best to KILL ME! The situation was definitely looking VERY BAD. Then it got worse! The disabled tank started to roll backward down the hill. If you think a tank looks big, it really looks big when you are lying on the ground and it is picking up speed and coming straight at you! It was amazing how much noise those tracks made as gravity was turning them as it rolled toward me. Much different than when the big diesel engine growled as it moved. Even on grass and dirt, I can remember the clack, clack and intensifying whine they made as the tank accelerated right toward me! I made a very QUICK decision: I may die but I'll be dammed if it is by being run over by our own tank! I started a high crawl, perpendicular to the perceived path of the accelerating tank. No matter how fast I was moving that tank was getting bigger and still looked like it was headed straight for me. Had I chosen the wrong direction to crawl? Crawling as hard as I could go and expecting to be crushed in an instant I heard it grind past me. I collapsed, heart pounding, gasping for breath, totally exhausted. I don't know how much or little that it cleared me, but it DID clear me. By that time I couldn't see much. My glasses were totally covered in sweat, dirt and chaff from the grass. I was face down in the dirt and just trying to get all the oxygen that I could suck up. I finally got enough air that I could think again. I got a canteen freed from my cartridge belt and drank and splashed my face and washed off my glasses. Some how I was not crushed or shot . Both had seemed inevitable just seconds before! I probably only crawled fifty feet and I am sure not too fast. I still had my helmet, flak jacket, radio, extra battery, pack full of C-rations, 280 rounds of ammo, a carton of Newports and my jammed M-16. I was alive and had no bullet holes! I don't know if the sniper fired or if the curvature of the terrain protected me. I had only focussed on getting out of the path enormous tank.
By then things were getting a little better. Lots of M-16 fire had gone out, several LAW's had been fired, many 106 rounds had been fired by a group of Ontoses and I heard multiple M60's barking out rounds. I assembled my cleaning rod and punched the empty brass cartridge from the chamber of my M-16. I chambered a fresh round and decided it would take a one on one situation for me to expend it on this day! I made the decision to disassemble my cleaning rod and pack it back unto the small canvas pouch on my cartridge belt.
The day dragged on, with lots of help from close Air Support, the a battle turned our way. After a longest night of my life, we recovered Tony and other bodies and walked down the hill and back to resume our lives. You, Tony, will forever be 19 years old just 2months and 4 days short of your twenty birthday! Too young, gone too soon, I will always remember you and what you did on that day! As the lyrics of your favorite song: "My prayer is to linger at the end of the day." Tony, you will always linger in my memory till the end of my days.

If I had not been pulled that day to carry the radio for an unusual circumstance, I would have been in our squad with that radio and you might be writing this Remembrance!
Semper Fidelis my BROTHER.
Rest in peace.

Written this day, May 26, 2014
Lance Corporal Charles Holland 2268118
Lima Company
3rd. Battalion, 26th Marine Regiment
Served in RVN Nov. 13, 1966 to Dec. 8, 1967 (12 months and 26 days)

As a footnote, today I discovered a description of the battle that I had never seen before:

http://www.g2mil.com/lost_vietnam.htm
The Battle has a name:
Battle for Nui Ho Khe (Hill 88)
This translates to: The Softly Mountains
A gentle easy to climb hill 88 meters above sea level.

http://www.historynet.com/3rd-battalion-26th-marines-fight-with-the-nva-324b-division-in-september-1967-during-the-vietnam-war.htm
This gives an overview of what happened. A prospective that I was never privy to untii just now!

Dear LCPL Anthony Peter Sawicki, sir

As an American, I would like to thank you for your service and for your sacrifice made on behalf of our wonderful country. The youth of today could gain much by learning of heroes such as yourself, men and women whose courage and heart can never be questioned.

May God allow you to read this, and may He allow me to someday shake your hand when I get to Heaven to personally thank you. May he also allow my father to find you and shake your hand now to say thank you; for America, and for those who love you.

With respect, and the best salute a civilian can muster for you, Sir

Curt Carter